


Patchwork Memories

by LadyEnterprise1701



Series: I Am Not Afraid [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Changeling - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 06:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEnterprise1701/pseuds/LadyEnterprise1701
Summary: After Nomad's attack, memories are separated from dreams, assurances are made, and promises are kept. Takes place after the events of "The Changeling," when a sinister artificial intelligence wipes Lieutenant Uhura's memories clean.





	

_"What is the meaning? What form of communication? For what purpose is singing? What is music? Think about music…"_

"NO!"

A strangled scream clawed its way up Nyota Uhura's throat, startling her out of the nightmare. Any fear that she might still be dreaming was extinguished as soon as her eyelids wrenched open and her gaze focused on the shadowed walls of the Sickbay room. For a moment she lay there breathing hard, wondering why the room was dark and no one came running to check on her, the way they had every time she so much as sneezed over the past few days.

 _Night._ The word finally came to her exhausted, confused brain. _It's night. We always turn the lights down at night._

Everything was awfully quiet. Only her own ragged breathing and the beeping of her biobed's monitor broke the silence. Nyota sat up slowly, untangling her legs from the orange sheets damp with her own perspiration, and rubbed her eyes like a little child.

_It's all right, it was just a dream. You're on the…the ship…what's it called again…?_

Nyota gulped down a stab of panic. She knew the name, she did, but every night since that thing—that _Nomad_ —attacked her, she'd had these dreams that left her forgetful all over again. Often she was too scared to go back to sleep; she'd just sit there, quiet and haunted, until Dr. McCoy or Christine came to check on her.

_Enterprise. You're on the Enterprise, it's okay, calm down…_

_No…no, I can't relax…_

_can't let my guard down…_

_can't let myself forget anything else…_

_"THINK ABOUT MUSIC!"_

Nyota pressed her hands to the sides of her head and groaned. Somewhere in the back of her head, where Mr. Spock had awakened the rest of her memories with a delicate mind-meld, she knew crying wasn't acceptable. She hadn't had a really good cry since…since…

_planet_

_spores_

_they wore off_

_alone_

_run run run back to the ship_

_back to the captain_

_find the captain_

Nyota lifted her head, determination suddenly flashing in her large dark eyes. She didn't hear anyone nearby, which meant Dr. McCoy must've gone to bed. Christine was probably on watch, but if she could just sneak…

_And I know I'm sneaky. Small and sneaky, just like when I was little. Oh thank God…that's another memory, isn't it?_

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, tiptoed to the door. The office was empty; either Christine was tending to another patient in another room, or she'd fallen asleep at someone's bedside. Nyota rubbed her bare arms, missing the feeling of warm fabric enveloping them. _Sleeves._ Yes, the words came to her thick and fast now that she was fully awake. Again, she credited that to Spock's meld. It had fed plenty of knowledge back into her head, something that had delighted Dr. McCoy.

"You'll be back to your old self in a few days, Lieutenant!" he'd said just this morning. His tone was more jolly than it had been since she first found herself in Sickbay, numb and mute. "And don't hesitate to ask us anything. We're here to help you remember whatever still feels a little fuzzy, okay?"

_A few days. Hah. A few days might bring back everything I used to know, but how's it supposed to be bring back who I was?_

Where am I going again?

Back to the captain.

Find the captain.

Nyota had a vague feeling that she wasn't supposed to do it quite like this; a question of APPROPRIATE CONDUCT screeched at her in disapproval, but without giving details. She gave her head a fierce shake, hugged herself tighter. At this point she didn't know what else to do. Dr. McCoy's friendly words, comforting as they were, still weren't what she needed. Nor was Mr. Spock's changeless voice, reassuring in its unperturbed quality yet still too detached to make her feel totally, completely safe and loved.

What Nyota really wanted was her father's strong, capable arms around her. Mama's soothing voice. Her sister's always-there-for-you-no-matter-what love.

_But I can't find them here, either. They're far, far, far away—I left them of my own free will—because I wanted to be here. I enlisted in Starfleet. Because I wanted to explore._

Right?

The turbolift got her to Deck 5. The hallway was dark; she ran her fingertips along the wall as she crept hesitantly down its length. One of the doors had her name on it. _Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. Communications Officer._

Communications officer. Fragments of languages she used to speak fluently raced through her healing brain, building rapidly upon each other until they were magnificent structures and no longer broken shards of meaningless words and phrases: a dozen Earth languages, the guttural, complex Klingon, three dialects of Romulan.

And then a phrase…very familiar, even though she couldn't recall ever using it in a conversation: Nam-tor nash-veh pakik. "I am lost." Nyota paused, one hand on the wall, wincing as she tried to call back the language. It came to her after a few moments of painful concentration.

Vulcan, of course. Mr. Spock's native tongue.

_Nam-tor nash-veh pakik._

Nyota's shaking hand ran over the motion detector of the door she wanted. A steady voice on the other side called "Come" and the door slid open. Nyota stumbled inside and the door shut behind her.

The Captain sat on the still-made-up bed, dressed in pajamas, his back against three pillows while he held an old-fashioned book in front of his face. Nyota blinked in surprise. She couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. Captain Kirk was always dressed in command gold and black, always on his feet, always either laughing or staring someone down—

She jumped when he bolted upright.

"Lieutenant Uhura?"

Nyota gulped. Her vision blurred; her chest felt twisted. She started wringing her hands.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry…"

Startled, Captain Kirk threw aside the book and sprang to his feet. Nyota couldn't help it. She burst into tears and buried her face in his chest, sobbing bitterly. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his cheek against the top of her head, and for the longest time said nothing but "It's all right" and "Shh, Uhura, shhh…"

And with that, a new memory burst open in her brain.

_Evening sun tilting shadows over a fertile planet. A soft breeze._

Tears running down her face as she sees him coming, hears him shouting her name. She starts sobbing like she's never sobbed before because she's always supposed to be strong, she's a Starfleet officer, you cry in private when the work and the occasional tragedy all gets to be too much—

She flings herself at him. Feels the tall, sturdy frame pressed against her petite self and knows she's safe, because a year of serving under James T. Kirk's command has taught her that he will always take care of them, no matter what.

"I'm sorry! I sabotaged my own station—someone brought the spores up to the bridge and—and I didn't know what I was doing—I'm sorry, Captain, I'm so sorry—!"

"It's all right, Lieutenant, it's all right. None of us have been quite ourselves today, have we?"

"Hey," he murmured.

Nyota felt him trying to push her back. An irrational terror seized her; she wrapped her fingers around the front of his shirt and held on tight. He stopped trying to move her and instead just ran a hand up and down her back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered.

Nyota swallowed, then nodded against him.

"All right, then. Sit down, right here…"

Keeping one arm around her shoulders and the other hand wrapped firmly around her own, he guided her to the edge of the bed and made her sit. Her hands shook as she swiped at the tears streaking down her face. The Captain sat beside her. Nyota pulled in a shuddering breath as he moved his hand up and down, slow and soothing, over her bare arm.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said, very gently.

Nyota hesitated, gulped, pressed her knees tightly together. She couldn't bear to look at him.

_I'm going to regret this weakness tomorrow, aren't I?_

But if I don't talk to someone—if I don't talk to HIM—I'll go mad.

What if I'm already going mad? What if my head is ruined?

What if he makes me leave?

"I—I'm having nightmares," she whispered, rubbing her eye with the ball of her hand. "That thing keeps telling me to think about music and…and every time I wake up it's like I'm back to the day when I couldn't think about _anything_. There was just this empty blank and…"

Her voice cracked. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth.

"Oh Captain… _who am I?_ "

Captain Kirk brought his hand to rest on her shoulder. "Well, for one, you're the finest communications officer in Starfleet. You're also the highest-ranking woman on this ship, and the most respected. And…and I consider you a friend."

Nyota lifted her head. There'd been none of his wry humor in his voice when he said that. He really meant it. A friend…

_Scotty is a friend. So is Christine. And Spock…and Pav…and Sulu…and the doctor…_

But the Captain was the benevolent leader who kept everyone, especially the females on his ship, at arms' length. Females planetside, now that was different, and Nyota suddenly remembered besotted fellow crew-women, always jealous of the beautiful natives and civilians who inevitably caught the captain's eye.

Irritation flared in the center of her chest. Irritation…and a certain edgy jealousy of her own… _because_ I'm _the one who sees him everyday. I work in the same room with him for hours on end, and I like him. He's funny and handsome and poetic and kind and brilliant…_

"I shouldn't be here, should I?" she whispered.

The Captain gave her a sympathetic, one-sided smile. "No, not really. But I think I can pull a few strings to keep the rumors at bay. Just this once," he added quickly, raising his index finger. "Don't make a habit of it."

Nyota tried to smile. "Okay. How long have I been here?"

"On the Enterprise? Almost two years. We're slated to stay out here for five, you know."

"Yes, I did know that." She frowned. "Did…did someone try to take over once?"

Captain Kirk's smile broadened in wry amusement. "Oh, you mean Khan?"

The name birthed the memory so fast, Nyota drew a sharp breath. _Khan, the imperious 20th century tyrant…Marla falling head over heels for him…Captain Kirk in the depressurization chamber…Nyota herself reeling backwards as someone struck her full in the face…_

"Yes...Khan."

"The next time I get caught with my britches down like that is the day I resign my captaincy."

Nyota laughed. "Can I ask you something else, sir? If you don't mind?"

Captain Kirk glanced at the chronometer on his nightstand and shrugged. "I've got all night, Lieutenant. If it helps you get back on the bridge, it'll be well worth any extra coffee I need in the morning."

_Coffee. Strong black liquid, very hot. Keeps you awake. He drinks a lot of it. So do I, don't I?_

"Was there a…a big ship, big and yellow and round like the sun—"

"The Fesarius, yes. It caught the Enterprise in its tractor beam and I…" He stopped, chuckled to himself. "I bluffed our way out of it."

"I thought I might've dreamed it."

"No, it's definitely a memory." The Captain rubbed her arm briskly now. "Do you remember when Trelane captured us and brought us to Gothos? You played music then—music you never knew before. He had a harpsichord—"

"And he made Yeoman Ross dance with him?"

"Yes!"

Nyota clapped a hand over her mouth. Exhilaration and impatience bubbled up inside her: exhilaration, because these were personal memories, not dreams and not rote knowledge—and impatience, because there were so many and she wouldn't have time to ask about all of them unless they stayed up all night long.

Captain Kirk's smile was so wide now, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Anything else?"

"Yes, yes! We went back in time—"

"To 1968, yes."

"I wrecked my own console one time, didn't I?"

"While we were orbiting Omricon Ceti III. The entire crew was infected by a…a type of narcotic spore. It was hardly your fault."

"But you found me on the planet."

A strange look came into his eyes. "I'm afraid I did."

She lowered her eyes, thoroughly embarrassed by that memory. She laced her fingers together and squeezed hard.

"You went back in time again. You came back…and I found you weeping in the observatory."

"Yes," he said, very quiet.

_The memory: the lights are turned down for the night, and she tiptoes into the observatory for no reason other than that she wants to look at the stars and unwind after a frightful day of thinking she might never get out of the City on the Edge of Forever…_

Until she hears the low, groaning sound of a grown man sobbing. Horrified, she creeps closer until she recognizes him sitting on one of the benches with his face in his hands, broad shoulders wracking with weeping. Everything in her wants to reach out and so she does. She rushes to him and sits on the bench and wraps her arms around his shoulders and whispers, "Shh, it's all right, it's all right, don't cry…"

And when he tries to sit up straight and compose himself and utterly fails the second he looks at her, she lets him drop his golden head on her shoulder. She holds him and runs her fingertips through his hair like he's just a heartbroken little boy until he finally calms down…and even then he clings to her like she's the last sure anchor in a world turned upside down.

Nyota shuddered.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she murmured, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn. A slight crease deepened between the captain's eyebrows. He glanced at the door, then at her.

"I'll take you to Sickbay myself, if you like. Do you think you can make the walk back?"

Nyota wasn't sure, but couldn't bring herself to say so out loud. She forced a brave nod, tightened her fingers over the edge of the bed, and pushed herself up.

She immediately staggered. Captain Kirk caught her flailing hands and leaped to his feet—and the next thing she knew he'd scooped her clear off the ground. She gasped and quickly tucked her fists close to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Which, to be honest, wasn't hard.

"Shh, Lieutenant…I've got you."

She stared at him, feeling like a small child who's received totally unexpected and undeserved affection. "If someone sees us—"

"Everyone's asleep except for the Delta Shift. Nobody will see us—and even if someone did, they'd understand." He tilted his head to one side with a tender look. "Relax, Uhura. Nobody's asking you to prove anything. Not tonight."

She hesitated, contemplated resistance…but she didn't feel up to making the walk herself. She doubted she even had the mental wherewithal to argue. With a sigh she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. It seemed to satisfy him, because she felt him walking and heard the door hiss open for him. She even knew, without opening her eyes, when he entered the turbolift.

But then everything grew hazy and disoriented. By the time she heard Christine's sleepy, panicky voice, she hovered on the razor-thin edge of sleeping and waking.

"Nyota! Captain—!"

"It's all right, Nurse." The Captain's voice was a warm rumble in Nyota's ear. "She had a mild panic attack and found herself on Deck Five, but I doubt she's any worse for the wear."

"Thank goodness." A cool hand smoothed back Nyota's hair. She opened her eyes, saw Christine running a mediscanner over her. "Dr. McCoy will kill me for dozing off on duty…"

"I won't tell him," Captain Kirk whispered. Then, with a conspiratorial smirk reserved just for Nyota, he added, "I'm good at keeping secrets."

As soon Christine gave him the all-clear, he brought her back to her room and set her down in a sitting position on the edge of her biobed.

"There now," he murmured. "You think you can go back to sleep after all this excitement?"

Nyota gripped the edge of the bed and squinted at him through heavy eyelids. "When can I go back to work?"

"Soon. Keep studying, keep getting your memories back…ask Spock to meld with you again if you think you need it…and as soon as Dr. McCoy says it's all right, you can come straight back to the bridge."

Nyota grimaced. "I'm sick and tired of sitting in here by myself."

Captain Kirk's eyebrows climbed; he looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. "Last I heard, you had more visitors coming in and out of here than the king of England."

Nyota pressed her lips together before she let a sentiment along the lines of _"Yes, but they're not YOU"_ out in the open. Flushing, she looked down at her lap.

"I have one more thing I want to ask about. Did you ever fight a…a…" She growled in frustration when the name wouldn't come to her. "It looked like a lizard, but it wasn't, and it—"

"The Gorn."

"You _did_ , then?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Nyota nodded, goosebumps rising on her arms at the harrowing images swirling through her head. _All of us leaning towards the viewscreen, watching him limp away, watching him try to build a weapon, my heart hammering in my throat…_

She shook her head and swung her legs onto the bed. The Captain drew the blanket up as she lay down on her back, hands clasped over her stomach. The biobed monitor clicked to life; the steady thump of her heartbeat broke the silence.

"I was terrified," she whispered.

"Of the Gorn?" he asked, straightening the blanket.

"Well, he was hideous. But I was more afraid that…that you might not come back."

Captain Kirk looked at her, and Nyota held her breath. He glanced back towards the door, but Christine wasn't anywhere in sight. Almost before Nyota knew he'd done it, he bent over her, smoothed her hair back with one hand, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Above her, the heart monitor beeped a little faster.

"I'll _always_ come back," he murmured. "And so will you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

He smiled back, his thumb moving in slow, even strokes along her cheekbone. Then he drew himself up, giving his shirt a jerk at the hem the way she recalled him doing with his uniform.

He was Captain Kirk again, all command and benevolent distance.

_And yet I do know better than anyone except Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy what he's really like underneath that mask. I know that I know. It's not a memory. I know…_

"I'll be glad to see you back on the bridge, Lieutenant," he said in a crisper tone. "The sooner the better, too."

Nyota raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"Really." Captain Kirk tried to hold back a smile, but one corner of his mouth tilted at a suspicious angle. "Spock and Bones don't behave nearly as well without the presence of a lady to keep them in line."

Nyota stared at him, not sure she'd heard right—and then she started giggling. Captain Kirk grinned and tilted his head back with a wink.

"Take care, Uhura," he said, and hurried out of the room before she could stop laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhura apparently regained her knowledge through re-education rather easily (and I don't think it's unreasonable to assume Spock may have helped her with a mind-meld), but something tells me her emotional recovery would've been far more difficult. I think it's significant, too, that the very next episode, "Mirror, Mirror," shows Kirk being exceptionally gentle and encouraging with Uhura, who started out unusually frightened by the parallel universe. Maybe her somewhat uncharacteristic lack of steely-eyed poise at the beginning of the episode stemmed from her insecurities after Nomad's attack, and Kirk (being Kirk, AKA the sweetest guy in fictional history) was keenly aware of his need to build her confidence. But maybe he'd been helping her with that already, and that's what this little one-shot is about.


End file.
